


Damn These Vampires

by lately



Category: Damn These Vampires - Mountain Goats (song), WTF Evolution (Tumblr)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lately/pseuds/lately
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth Management is a good employer, but they maybe need to work on protocols for sending memos, especially where humans are concerned.  It's not nice to have Evolution yell at you while you're making hot chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn These Vampires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Colourofsaying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourofsaying/gifts).



> This is a mashup, dear Yuletide recipient, of two of your fandoms. I don't know how my brain managed to get a mashup from these two media, but here we are. I hope it's within the area code of what you were hoping to read... Happy Festivus!
> 
> Thanks Eloise for the cheerleading and beta help. <3

In a move that she ironically doesn't see as well timed, but is nonetheless quite festive, Evolution comes into the Earth Management staff kitchen as a reindeer.  She stomps all four hooves one at a time, coming in to the kitchen, antlers wide enough they crowd Jesus away from the stove where he's making hot chocolate.  But it's Jesus she's after, and Jesus who gets a blast of yelp-honk reindeer fury in his face.  Luckily, all that he spills are a few mini-marshmallows.

Genetic Drift, on the couch slouched half out of a tank of salt water in Common Octopus form, takes a shrimp from the ring on the coffee table and flicks it unerringly at Evolution's shoulder.  Evolution spares the octopus a glance, then shakes her antlers twice, shifting in a blink until she's in human form.

"Thank you," Jesus says, polite as usual.  It's a lot easier to talk to Evolution when they have the same kind of vocal cords.

"Sorry," Evolution, mutters, shaking out each arm and leg, getting used to the new shape. This time around, human form means that she looks like she's come from somewhere equatorial, brown from forehead to toes and every bit in between, her hair a black cloud. "Thanks GD."

Genetic Drift waves a tentacle, which she uses to snag a shrimp before sinking back down in her tank. 

Jesus keeps his eyes up above her chin, and holds up the pot.  "Want some hot chocolate?  There's enough hot milk for two mugs."

"Yeah, sure," Evolution says, feet apart, hands on her hips.  "But I've got a bone to pick with you, and your group calendar says you're booked up for the rest of the month."

"Ah," Jesus says, very carefully stirring Evolution's mug so the chocolate melts.  He's had enough meetings with her to try to keep any conversation sweet.  "Well, it's a human thing; they like to make a big deal about a day they call my birthday.  Keeps me a bit busier."

"Whatever," Evolution says, taking the mug.  "Well, no—it's about those humans of yours.  When we did the handover, I figured we wouldn't be talking much for another million or so years, but I think we have a problem."

There's a splash from the couch, and Genetic Drift is in human form now too, coming over to join in the conversation.  Jesus tips his chin a bit higher, though he's still just looking at Evolution.  (After Mohammed got a smack from Evolution one time for suggesting they wear clothes, company policy has insisted that Humans Division just have to get over themselves or find another job.)

"Can this wait until our next review at 10,000 years?" Jesus asks, hiding behind his mug. 

"No it can't," Evolution snaps, pounding a fist on the counter so the mini marshmallows jump again.  "This is plagiarism, pure and simple."

Most meetings at Earth Management take place in meeting rooms, rather than the staff kitchen, but Jesus is starting to get that sometimes impromptu sessions are sometimes a quicker way to get business done.  "Plagiarism...?"

"Yes!  Your humans are not only trying to take over my role—and let me tell you, I'm getting something into your calendar for that very soon—but they're _copying my work_."

Jesus glances over at Genetic Drift, who looks reasonably alert despite how much lukay-lukay[i] seaweed she's had over lunch, in between the shrimp.  She nods at him. 

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"I don't know how you missed this, and I don't know why you thought I wouldn't find out.  You're supposed to send me a memo when things are going off track, and this is definitely in the category of off-track.  They're _inventing new kinds of humans_ , Jesus.  That calls for a memo."

"I still--"

"What're they called, the ones that borrow from my bats, honey, can you remember?"

Genetic Drift wrinkles her nose.  "It's just the same, isn't it?  They call them vampires, don't they.  Whole documentary series on the staff room TV yesterday, something about true blood.” 

"That's it, yeah.  They make up a whole new kind of human and don’t even bother to pretend that they've come up with it themselves, they go ahead and steal the name too!"  Evolution stamps her heel against the floor, and it's nowhere near as satisfying as when she has hooves. 

Jesus, meanwhile, is earnestly wishing that it wasn't December, and that one of the others in the Human Division job share had thought to send a memo.  Then Evolution would be yelling at them instead of him.  Vampires on TV, seriously?

"I'm sorry, of course, but you must have noticed that they're hard to work with, humans.  I mean, I've been trying to get them to buy the 'peace and goodwill' policy for a couple thousand years now and it just--"

"It's plagiarism," Evolution repeats, stomping her foot again.  "If I have to make a formal complaint, I will!"

"Look, I'm sure we can sort this out.  Once Christmas is over, I'll get a slot in our calendars, bring along all of Humans Division and we'll see what we can do.  In the meantime, I promise they're not real vampires.  It's just make believe.  They call it fiction.”

Evolution looks at him uncomprehendingly.  Jesus hides behind his mug again, and sucks on a melting marshmallow.  

"Is this some kind of revenge for the Neanderthal thing?  Because I thought we were clear after the audit, that we didn't need to talk about it anymore." 

"No, no," Jesus says quickly, because he doesn't want to talk about the Neanderthal thing either.  "I promise, we can sort it out.  I mean, Genetic Drift and I could probably have a meeting, you know she's been in contact more recently--"

Evolution gives him a long hard stare; Genetic Drift looks at him vaguely, because apparently the lukay-lukay has hit her system. "You know I'm on Ev's side, right?" she says after a too-long pause. 

Of course. Workplace romances suck. "Let me send out an appointment and we'll talk it through in January," Jesus tries again.

"Fine," Evolution mutters finally.  "Vampires.  What the hell." 

"Chill baby," Genetic Drift murmurs, pressing a small kiss to the top of Evolution's cheek.  "You know that humans are just a blip, geologically speaking.  They'll be gone before you know it."

"I'll set something up," Jesus says again, as Evolution and Genetic Drift turn towards each other, snuggling up close.

"Send me an appointment," Evolution mumbles, already more interested in Genetic Drift's human form than in either Jesus or her hot chocolate.  "We need to go be sea slugs[ii] for a while.  Ugh, humans." 

There are twin splashes a moment later, and Jesus is left alone in the kitchen, with the remnants of melted marshmallows in his mug, and a full second mug of tepid chocolate. 

"I've always hated vampires," he says to himself, squashing a marshmallow against the counter.  All the business with crucifixes and the holy water and the drinking blood they brought into it.  “Damn those vampires."

 

* * *

[i] http://www.drugs-forum.com/forum/showthread.php?t=70733

[ii] https://www.sciencenews.org/article/sea-slug-carries-disposable-penis-plus-spares


End file.
